Free And Other Stories by Emma Bull Page A

We better take the fire esc—”
    Street frowns. “We?”
    Which is when the storage room door
swings in as if it was kicked by a mule. The mule is a huge man so
tall that he has to duck when he steps inside. His T-shirt says,
“Looking for someone to hurt.”
    O says, “They would be
early.”
    Street wrenches open the storage
room window. “Come on! If—”
    A little man in a dark red suit
drops onto the fire escape with a friendly smile and a large
pistol. “Tut, tut, my tricksy.  A gent pays his bills afore
making his departure.  And it’s true you’ll be making the big
departure soon, but Bossman Sevenday’ll have what’s his first, now,
won’t he?”
    2
    Mr. Big and Mr. Small don’t offer
answers, so Street doesn’t ask questions. They drive from the
Dupree Building in Flashtown to the country homes of Hillside while
Big and Small sing Tin Pan Alley songs in perfect harmony. O
follows the black limousine in a small silver roadster with the top
down. Street thinks she must be working with his captors, but he
can’t figure out why she was acting more like audience than actor,
and he doesn’t like thinking about her. So he joins Big and Small
on the choruses, and he smiles as they wince whenever he goes off
key.
    They pass many walled homes before
Mr. Big turns toward a high gate like gleaming ivory. It swings
back at their approach. The limousine rolls over a long white
cobblestone driveway and stops beside a bone-white mansion. Small
leaps out to open Street’s door, saying, “If you’d be so kind, my
tricksy.” Street feels safer staying where he is, until Small nods
at Big and adds, “The kindness is for my compatriot. He must clean
the car if a guest is reluctant to leave it.”
    Big grins sheepishly, and Street
leaps out.
    O parks her roadster beside the
limousine and walks over to them. For the drive, she added racing
goggles and a white scarf. She pushes the goggles up on her
forehead. Street thinks she’s the finest thing he’s ever seen, then
wishes he hadn’t thought that.
    “On with the show!” O
calls, waving the others toward the back of the mansion.
    Street asks, “Do I get
paid?”
    Big says in a very gentle voice,
“Oh, you should hope you don’t, Mr. Trickster.”
    O leads, and Big and Small follow,
and Street sees no choice but to be escorted around the mansion. In
the back, a man lounges by an enormous pool, drinking a pina
colada. He wears a black top hat, smoky round glasses, a black
Hawaiian shirt printed with silver skulls, gray pinstriped surfer
shorts, and black flip-flops. He looks up and laughs. “Trickster!
O! So very good to see you!”
    Street, knowing who this must be,
says, “And I couldn’t imagine anyone better to see me, Mr. Bossman
Sevenday, sir. I’m just afraid there’s a teensy
misunderstanding—”
    “A misunderstanding?”
says Bossman Sevenday. “When Trickster is involved? Oh, no. How
could that be?”
    As Bossman Sevenday and Big laugh
heartily, Small whispers, “He’s not happy, my tricksy. You should
make him happy.”
    Street desperately wants to do
precisely that, and has no idea how. He looks at the swimming pool,
an elongated hexagon, then looks closer. It’s the shape of a
coffin.
    Bossman Sevenday laughs harder and
says, “You like my pool, Trickster? You may swim in it anytime.
Some people like it so much, they go in and never want to
leave.”
    Street swallows and says, “I love
your pool, Mr. Bossman Sevenday, sir. But I was thinking how happy
I would be if I could do something for you. Whatever you liked. All
you’d have to do is tell me what you wanted, and I’d be on my way
to do that this very second, Mr. Bossman Sevenday, sir.”
    Bossman Sevenday stops laughing and
says, “The rock.”
    “The rock?” Street
says.
    Bossman Sevenday nods.
    “That’s it?” says
Street.
    Bossman Sevenday nods
again.
    Street looks at O. She says, “He
wants the rock.”
    Street says, “Of course he wants
the rock! I’ll go get it